


Stars and Planets Timestamps

by singingintime (laulan)



Series: Stars and Planets 'Verse [3]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Earth, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Music, Crushes, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Hair Braiding, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Meeting the Parents, Pining, Pre-Relationship, past parental death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-10
Updated: 2009-11-10
Packaged: 2019-06-26 18:29:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15668823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laulan/pseuds/singingintime
Summary: A collection of miscellaneous timestamps from theStars and Planets 'Verse.Chapter 1: Spock gets a call from his fatherChapter 2: A little bit of Jim POV inSymphonyChapter 3: Hikaru/Pavel snippetChapter 4: Spock meeting Winona (Jim's POV)





	1. Spock gets a call from his father

**Author's Note:**

> Content note: I haven't marked this story as "underage" as Chekov/Sulu is not the overall focus of the fic, but Pavel is 17 and Hikaru is 19 here (a year and a half apart). Nothing happens beyond the level of brief kisses between the two of them, but they *are* dating, and I wanted to mention that up here so people can avoid reading if they need or want to.
> 
> Standard disclaimer: These stories are old work, so there are definitely parts of it that make me wince or that I would write differently now. However, I'm not going to go back and edit these stories (unless something sticks out to me egregiously) because this collection is meant to be a record of the story I wrote at the time more than anything else. I'm not really looking for detailed constructive criticism on this story for those reasons, but if something in it seems harmful or needs an extra warning, feel free to let me know and I'll see what I can do to address it. <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original note: musical_magic: Spock + parents; phone calls, awkward tension, and Jim to the rescue.

His father calls every Wednesday evening. This is the first time Spock has felt like he has nothing to say whatsoever.  
  
It's a hot evening. The sky is waiting, black and humid, outside the window, and someone down the hall is playing something slow and sharp on a cello. Spock can feel the tension and electricity gathering in the air for a summer storm, mirroring the notes in a way that is slightly unsettling.  
  
Jim promised to call him later, and claimed he had a surprise when Spock asked after his plans. Spock is not particularly fond of surprises, but he trusts Jim not to spring something unpleasant on him. All the same, the thought of it is knotting his body with apprehension, and he feels tight and wound and not at all fit to talk to his father.  
  
There is routine to follow, though, so he picks up the phone when the call comes.  
  
Greetings are quickly dispensed with. They proceed through the usual inquiries with speed, too: weather, progress of the score, the ambassadorial work that his father can safely relate. His father seems hurried. His voice is clipped, and Spock can hear the rustle of papers in the background, which does nothing to calm the strange restlessness stealing up into his throat and edging hesitation onto his words. He finds himself drifting.  
  
But he has a duty as a son, he reminds himself sternly, and he will not shirk it. He forces himself refocus on the conversation, relating news of Nyota to his father and inquiring after his cousins, who Sarek dined with recently.  
  
(He can still feel his fingers twitching into position for a song against the bedsheets--some way of distracting himself, of making time move more quickly.)  
  
Smalltalk is finally, finally exhausted. There is a short silence, and then--"Has anything else of interest happened?" his father inquires, as he always does.  
  
Spock imagines, for one moment, telling Sarek that he has begun to date Jim.  
  
No.  
  
"Nothing out of the ordinary," he says evenly, tracing the edge of his bed and breathing slowly against this--riot of confusion and anger and whatever-else aching in his stomach.  
  
"Then I believe we have spoken on everything of any import," his father says. "I will speak to you next week."  
  
"Yes. Goodbye."  
  
He hangs up. The phone feels unnaturally heavy in his hand, so he rolls over and places it carefully on his bedside table. His body feels heavy, too, so he stays curled on his side for a moment, staring at nothing in particular.  
  
Things would be different if his mother were alive, his mind whispers. Things would be different. She was always so open with her love; perhaps she would have come to terms with Spock's being the way he is. Perhaps she wouldn't have minded at all, would have said the same things Nyota says to him. (There's nothing wrong with you. It's okay, it _is_.) Perhaps--he closes his eyes and holds the thought to him, brief and fleeting as the shadow of a bird's wing--perhaps she would even have wanted to meet Jim.  
  
The phone rings again, startling him out of his reverie. He blinks away his body's natural reaction to the remembrance of grief, and reaches out to trap the phone against his ear.  
  
"Hello?" he says.  
  
" _Hey,_ " says Jim warmly. " _It's me._ "  
  
Spock smiles a little. "Hello," he says again, and stretches out.


	2. A little bit of Jim POV in Symphony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original note: charlietinpants: Jim's life and his point of view, his reasons for pursuing Spock, etc.

Here's the thing: Jim can't stand not knowing things.  
  
Seriously, it's always been that way. It's why he ate glue in kindergarten (his mom's third of many calls to poison control), why he kissed Susan Jackson in fourth grade (no, her lipgloss didn't taste like strawberries), and why he picked up that first Dizzy Gillespie tape in that tiny secondhand bookstore when he was eleven (it felt solid and right). He's just a curious person. Can't let sleeping dogs lie.  
  
So at first he thinks it's just that--that Spock's a mystery. There's his enormous talent, for one; Jim's left a little in awe every time the guy puts bow to strings, because man, the sounds he pulls smoothly from his violin? Incredible. _Indescribable_. And while Jim's wondering how he got so good, he starts noticing the way that Spock concentrates on whatever he's doing, with all of himself focused so intensely. Like doing his best at whatever-it-is is the most important thing ever. He's got an iron will, that's for sure, and it's--well, it's intriguing.  
  
And of course there's that long, fascinating name. Jim's dying to know what the language is, but no one seems to know, and Spock won't talk to Jim.  
  
Spock won't talk to Jim, no. But Jim sees him talking to _everyone_ else--even if he doesn't know them all that well, he always seems to know what they need to hear, telling them just the right thing to get them back on track and playing better. And always with that soft, politely encouraging smile, eyes warm and corners of his mouth just barely tipped up. How does he do that, Jim wants to know; put so much into one facial gesture? Most of the time, his face is blank with that deep concentration, so when he _does_ give you an expression it's like--like a prism, one little line of white light refracting into something absolutely beautiful.  
  
Something about it sorta makes Jim's breath catch in his chest.  
  
So it's the curiosity and it's the fascination, if you wanna call it that, that get him at first. He can't help but keep chipping away at Spock, talking his ears off in the hallways and chasing after him all over the place. He learns (as Spock raises disapproving eyebrows at Jim's presence) what the guy likes to eat for lunch, how strongly he's devoted to Nyota Uhura, how long he's been studying violin for, and about ten million other little things. When Spock gives in and plays a chess game with Jim, he learns more: that Spock has a killer sense of humor and is even smarter than he seems, that his violin has a name, that he owns three copies of his favorite book. That he's loyal, that he's strong, that he prefers _soup_ for breakfast, which Jim thinks is pretty strange and hilarious.  
  
It's only after he's collected all these details that he realizes he's not just sticking around because Spock's a mystery, anymore. Now it's just--that he's _Spock_. That he's this amazingly passionate, strong person, full of music and brilliance and god, the best heart. And he barely even seems to know it.  
  
By that time, Jim's halfway to loving him already. He's in too deep to stop, so he doesn't try--lets it flow out into his music, instead, lets the notes speak for him, and thinks, and dreams, and waits. Wants.


	3. Hikaru/Pavel snippet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original note: belle_favrielle: Chekov/Sulu; just relaxing in their room, or Sulu thinking about how good a musician Chekov is, and whether he gets jealous or not.

He never really expected to get picked. He auditioned anyway, of course, because it was _Star Trek_ , which is only his favorite TV show in the whole world, and also because that's all musicians ever do--reach for the stars and then put it into song if they don't get there.  
  
That's what Hikaru was expecting, pretty much. He knows he's good, yeah; he also knows that he's not the absolute best out there. He loves music like nothing else in the whole world, but loving something doesn't make you the best at it automatically. So he figured he'd probably end up working over at Kiyoko's photography studio again over the summer, doing paperwork and receptionist-y stuff.  
  
Instead he ended up here, on the floor of a dorm room while a genius braids his hair.  
  
"Why are we doing this, again?" he asks, stretching his legs out. He knows he should probably feel like it's is an insult to his manhood or something, but all he feels is a soft edge of fondness creeping up from his stomach and turning the corners of his mouth up.  
  
"Shush! I am concentrating," orders Pavel from behind him, tugging a lock of his hair sharply in reprimand. "And I told you. I have many girl-cousins back home. If I do not practice, I will lose all my hairstyle skill. Then everyone will be very sad, yes? Katerina will be crying, if you do not help me, Hikaru."  
  
"Okay, okay," Hikaru says, laughing. "Shutting up now. Don't wanna make Katerina cry, after all."  
  
He can't seem to keep the stupid, silly grin off his face, sitting on the floor against Pavel's bed. It's maybe two, three in the afternoon, and the fan's beating the air lazily over at the two of them, rustling Pavel's athletic posters a little. The air is comfortably warm, and the sky outside is picture-book blue. Someone's playing something soft and sweet as honey down the hall on a guitar.  
  
Hikaru feels all the comfort of it settling in his stomach, warm and just plain good. He closes his eyes after a while, humming along with whatever song it is and concentrating on the fingers stroking through his hair. Moments like this should be remembered, so he stores it up, detail by detail and feeling by feeling.  
  
Finally, Pavel pats his shoulder. "Okay! I am finished," he announces.  
  
Hikaru can hear the grin in his voice. "Oh yeah?" he asks, opening his eyes and leaning back to look at his boyfriend upside-down. "Can I see?"  
  
"Can I take a photo first?" Pavel asks, eyes sparkling.  
  
Hikaru raises his eyebrows. "'Cause that's not suspicious at _all_ , Pav." He reaches up to feel his head and frowns. "What did you do to me?"  
  
Pavel doesn't say anything, just grins wider. Hikaru ducks away from his fingers and shoves up off the ground, turning so he can see himself in the mirror.  
  
"Pavel!" he gets out, gaping. Braiding, yeah right--his head is _covered_ in little pigtails, all done up with ridiculously bright pink ponytail holders. He looks like some kind of demented hedgehog who's in love with sparkles. "Pavel, you--you--"  
  
Pavel's collapsing back on his bed in giggles, curling over and peering up at Hikaru's hair. "But Hikaru! So cuuute," he coos, breaking off in another gasp of laughter.  
  
And really--Hikaru wants to be mad, or at least pretend to, but he can't manage it. No way. Not when faced with that smile, so happy and utterly light. Not when the giddiness of this whole thing's bubbling up inside him, too.  
  
"You imp," he settles for grumbling, trying to at least scowl through his grin. He pounces on the bed, draping himself over Pavel, who just keeps laughing under him, frame wracked with giggles and hands flitting up under Hikaru's shirt, skin so warm and perfect.  
  
And honestly, if anyone expects Hikaru to resist kissing him, right then? They're crazy.


	4. Spock meeting Winona (Jim's POV)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original note: Second of my apologies-this-took-so-long drabbles! melmelchan wanted to see something from the Stars and Planets 'verse with parents; "either a meet the parents scene, or Jim's thoughts on why Spock doesn't want him to meet his dad." So: Spock and Jim's mom meet.

JFK is a zoo. It's two-thirty, which is prime rush hour in airports, so it's kind of expected--but seriously, Jim thinks, squinting around at the crush of cars, this is ridiculous. People are rushing in and out of spaces like their lives depend on it, and the drivers at the front of the taxi queue are exchanging glances so murderous they're making Jim feel nervous just _standing_ there. He wouldn't be surprised if an all-out fight broke out. And aside from that, it's fucking loud-- _I missed you_ s and _hurry up_ s and a million names all mashing together into this huge crazy cacophony that's digging itself under his skin and making him even more restless. It feels insane, and he can't help but wonder if it hasn't gotten crazier since the last time he's been here, even. He's fidgeting, he knows; hand tapping a rhythm in 7/8 against his thigh, a backing to everything.  
  
Spock's voice cuts across it all with that leaden calm. "Jim, it is not necessary for us to carry this out if you are uncomfortable. I can take the subway back and meet up with you later, if you wish."  
  
Jim smiles a little, and cants a sideways glance up at Spock. "Spock for 'we don't have to do this,' huh?" he says, and kisses the corner of Spock's jaw. "Yeah, I know. But we're gonna."  
  
Spock frowns down at him. "I cannot help but notice that you seem highly agitated," he murmurs. "I believe it would be more prudent to wait for a time at which we can approach the situation with at least eighty-five percent confidence of a favorable outcome, Jim."  
  
Jim has to smile again, at the tight concern coiled in Spock's voice and at the comfort of numbers. At the _we_. He makes his breathing calm a bit, and takes Spock's hand, pulling them both into his jacket pocket and rubbing his thumb over Spock's superheated palm. Spock lets him do so without a word, eyes full of worry, and Jim shakes his head a little.  
  
"It's not because of that," he soothes. "She just--I dunno. She's my mom and I love her, don't get me wrong, but we don't always see eye to eye on stuff. That's all. I'd be 'agitated' if you weren't here, too," he says, shrugging and offering up a self-deprecating grin.  
  
Spock's mouth pulls into a tight line, but he stays silent. Jim can see the thoughts running through his head as clearly as if they were written on sheet music: _it would still make more sense to wait for a time when you are entirely ready,_ and _I certainly cannot be helping matters, then,_ and _it has only been a short while; you have no obligation, Jim_.  
  
That last one he actually said out loud yesterday, his head curled down and focused on cleaning the rosin from his violin. Said it so absently that Jim had known right away it wasn't hiding hurt, or being passive-aggressive. _You have no obligation, Jim_. Just what Spock truly felt.  
  
That's what decided him, in the end. Yeah, so what if it hasn't been that long? Jim doesn't think it's too soon. His mom's gonna be in town a day or so, and there's no point in not. Because no matter what happens from here on out--and Jim has an idea of how he'd like it to go, thank you very much, but even if it doesn't go like that--no matter what happens, Spock's always going to have been important to him at one point. _Always._ He's already made an indelible mark on Jim. There's no changing that; admitting to it won't do any more harm than trying not to. Jim's been down that stubborn road enough times to know that, and he's done with it.  
  
"Is there anything I can do to ease you?" Spock mutters finally, still frowning. Jim grins and threads his fingers through Spock's in his pocket.  
  
"C'n kiss me," he offers, sliding an impish hand over Spock's neck and bringing their lips together. Spock tastes like that stupidly strong organic chapstick he uses; Jim chases that out of his mouth until it doesn't taste like anything in particular, just tastes the way their kisses always taste, and his heart is humming.  
  
They're interrupted before they can really get started by Jim's phone buzzing in his other pocket, though. With an exaggerated sigh, he pulls back and fishes it out. It's a text from his mom: _in baggage claim, carousel 4._ His breath catches, annoyingly enough--he scrunches his face up at himself and ignores it.  
  
_Be right there_ , he texts back, and pulls Spock along through the doors. He shoves the nervousness deep down into him where it'll be quiet, and forces himself forward through the crush of people, pretending his heart's not pounding.  
  
He doesn't spot her until they're right on top of her, just about. The "Jim!" from his left side is a surprise, as is the sight of her standing _right_ there, real as anything.  
  
His stomach flips, and he gives her a lopsided smile and pulls her into a two-armed hug. "Hi, mom," he says into her hair, heart turning somersaults in his chest. She smells like she always does, like clean soap and some kind of roses, and a wave of homesickness punches through Jim's gut--memories of Iowa heat and winters reaching up out of nowhere and grabbing him firmly by the throat, whispering _home_.  
  
He coughs and steps back, pulling the shield of a smile back up onto his face. She beams back at him, eyes a little teary and mouth a little twisted, like she doesn't know what to say. She never quite does. "Hi, mom," he says again more surely, smiling. Something in him settles a little.  
  
"Hi, Jim," she says, hand hovering over his shoulder. "You look great."  
  
He grins, full-on this time. "Thanks, you too. I'm doin' pretty good. Hey, speaking of--there's someone I want you to meet." He pivots on his feet and beams up at Spock, who's standing nervous and impassive behind him. When Jim's mom looks up at him, he offers a tiny curl of smile.  
  
"This is my boyfriend," says Jim relishing the taste of the word. "Spock. Spock, this is my mom."  
  
"Pleased to meet you," Spock says, holding out a hand in the picture of politeness.  
  
Jim can see surprise and uncertainty warring on his mom's face, her eyes going a little wide. For a moment, his chest tightens, and then the moment's broken; she's smiling, more than a little awkward, but she's putting out her hand. She's putting out her hand, and she's smiling.  
  
Jim finds he's smiling, too.


End file.
